The FlapJack Contest
by wuemsel
Summary: Just what the title says.


Special thanks to Vermilion Angel for the beta and all. Also thanks to Kreek for her support.

No warnings for a change.

Enjoy!

THE FLAP-JACK CONTEST by wuemsel

"I'm starving."

"Think about something else."

"I can't. I'm starving."

Heyes sighed, but didn't turn to look at Kid riding next to him. He wasn't going to enter that discussion again and he really didn't want to talk about food.

"How much money we got left?" Kid asked.

Heyes forced himself not to look at Kid. "Enough to get a room in Virginia City until we've seen Mr Moore for the job."

"Aw Heyes," Kid whined.

"There's a biscuit left, isn't there?`"

"No, I ate it."

"Ah. Well, once we've talked to Mr Moore-"

"Heyes, I'm hungry," Kid cut him off. "A man's gotta eat."

"Not if he can't afford it," Heyes said.

"But we do have money left. We could talk to Mr Moore about pay in advance and get a room then."

"And if he doesn't agree?"

"Then we'll sleep at the stables."

"No."

"But Heyes-"

"No, we won't spend our last money on food when we need a place to stay. You'll just have to wait till we get paid."

"That could be tomorrow! I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"Neither have I, you know? I'm hungry, too, Kid."

"Then let's eat!"

"No."

Kid slumped his shoulders, pouting. "I hate you."

"Just keep it up, it might take your mind off your stomach."

Virginia City lay shiny and peaceful in the afternoon sun, when they arrived three hours later.

Only when they'd stopped in front of the hotel did Kid and Heyes notice the colourful decoration in the streets. A banner stretched from roof to roof. A small crowd gathered around a long table in the middle of the street. Kids ran around playing catch between the adults' legs.

A smallish man with a huge beard stood at the front of the table, demanding everyone's attention.

Curious, Heyes and Kid left their horses at the hotel and wandered over to join the crowd.

"Okay, everyone who signed up for the flap-jack contest please take a seat," the bearded man exclaimed.

The crowd began to move and spit out men of every age and height to sit down at the table.

Heyes felt Kid's gaze on him and turned his head slightly to meet it. He smiled.

They made their way through the crowd to the table and sat down next to each other. Enormous piles of flap-jacks were laid out all over the table. There were no plates.

"The rules," the bearded man said, "are as such: whoever leaves this table gives up, the last man eating wins. No getting sick on the table. Homer Jackson, do you understand that?"

The crowd laughed, and an elderly man with white hair and a haggard, pointy-nosed face to Heyes' left blushed a deep red.

"Have all the contestants taken a seat?"

Murmuring all around.

"Good. Then it only leaves me to say... gentlemen, start eating!"

Under the crowd's cheers, the men started to stuff themselves, not looking left or right. Kid dived right in, hogging flap-jacks in front of him while he was chewing like he'd get paid for it. Heyes discreetly rolled up a large, golden brown-ish flapjack and started eating.

By the time he'd savoured two and stood to leave the table, Kid had eaten ten and was still going strong.

Heyes wandered away from the table into the crowd like he'd never been part of the eating team and stood watching a man across from Kid, a huge bear of a man with a broad chest and ample stomach, who was eating mechanically. He didn't seem to be in any hurry, just shoved flap-jack after flap-jack into his mouth and apparently swallowed them whole. Heyes was impressed.

"Go Ross! Atta boy!" a young man next to Heyes shouted, drawing his attention to him. He was skinny and curly-haired, a boy more than a man, maybe eighteen years old. Excited, he kept cheering someone on, never taking his eyes off the table. Only when he noticed Heyes' gaze on him, did he stop to grin at him and say, "That's my brother right there. He's gonna win."

Heyes' followed the boy's outstretched finger to the big man still eating like he'd been doing so since the beginning of time.

"It sure looks like it," he said.

"You wanna bet on it?" the boy asked eagerly. Next to him, an older man of about thirty turned his head to cast him a frown.

"Jim," he said warningly.

"No harm in accepting a friendly bet, Aaron, is there?" Jim said and turned back to Heyes, smiling. "Well, mister? You backing somebody?"

Heyes briefly looked over at Kid, who looked about as content as he'd seen him since that time they'd robbed the Greystone bank in Silver Creek. He wasn't eating as mechanically as Ross, but as calmly, like it was understood he wasn't about to leave any flap-jacks on the table. He was also still hogging a pile, carefully guarding it with his arm.

"No, I don't," Heyes said to Jim and smiled at the disappointment on his face, "but like you said, a friendly bet never hurt anyone. However, I share your faith in your brother."

"Yeah," the boy said gloomily. "Only nobody wants to bet against him."

Aaron laughed softly and patted Jim's shoulder. "One day someone's gonna accept a bet of yours, little fella, and then you'll see."

"Oh, but I was thinking of offering you one," Heyes said comfortingly and smiled at Jim's face brightening up.

"You are?"

"Sure. I got fifty dollars saying your brother will win the contest-"

Jim's face fell.

"-but won't be the last one eating."

"That's impossible," Jim said. "The last one eating wins the contest."

"Well, are you gonna accept the bet or not?"

"Mister," Aaron said, "I don't think-"

"Sure I accept it," Jim cut him off, hoplding out his hand. "That's the easiest way I ever won fifty dollars."

"You never won any money at all," Aaron said.

"Fifty dollars, Aaron! Think about it." Jim grinned.

Heyes smiled.

They watched the rows at the table thin out, more and more men gave up and left or hurried away from the table with unmistakeable expressions on their faces.

Kid and Ross were still happily munching away.

Heyes felt good. He wasn't hungry anymore and a good bet always cheered him up. Especially one where the secret winning horse was on your side.

It took a good twenty more minutes, before Ross and Kid were the only ones left, and Ross was starting to slow down. Losing his cool somewhat, he kept throwing glances at Kid, who didn't notice. Kid had stopped hogging the flap-jacks when his opponents had left the table but was still eating in his own, fast and easy rhythym, happy, content and oblivious to the crowd watching him.

"Who is that guy?" Jim asked, frowning.

"Whoever he is," Aaron said, "He's sure giving Ross the chance to look a little greenish there."

In fact, Ross was starting to sweat and look more than a little uncomfortable. His chewing had slowed down considerably, and he was holding the pieces of flap-jacks in his hands far longer now before shoving them into his mouth.

At last, he swallowed, closed his eyes briefly and waved his hand. "I give up," he said. It took him two attempts to stand up from the table and leave.

Kid didn't notice. He rolled up another flap-jack and ate it with the crowd watching him in awe. When he rolled up another one after that, the bearded man spoke up. "Ladies and gents, seems like we have a winner!"

The crowd cheered, and at last Kid looked up from his meal, startled to find himself alone at the table.

"Well," Jim turned to Heyes, disappointment on his face, "looks like we both lost that bet."

"Not quite," Heyes said.

"Mister, would you so kindly as tell us your name, please?" the bearded man said, approaching Kid, who looked a bit miffed about having to ditch the rest of his flap-jack.

"Thaddeus Jones," he said. "But I don't-"

"Well, Mr Jones, congratulations on-"

"Uh..." another smallish man, this one with a smaller beard but otherwise unmistakably the other man's son, said from where he stood checking a piece of paper at the front of the table. "Dad, he's not on the list."

THe bearded man frowned. "Didn't you sign up, mister?" he asked Kid sternly.

"Well..." Kid smiled. "Uh... well, no. See, I..." He looked around helplessly. "I think this is a misunderstanding."

"Well, whatever it might or might not be, we cannot declare you the winner if you haven't signed up in advance, I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's no problem," Kid hurried to say and looked around for Heyes. "I'm sorry I, uh-"

"Well, then, that means," the bearded man said, "Ross is the winner. Come here, Ross!"

The crowd cheered, and Ross walked towards the bearded man, looking embarrassed and happy.

"Fifty dollars, please," Heyes smiled at Jim, who stared after his brother.

"How did you know that?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Ah, never share your secrets," Heyes said with a friendly nod. "Advice to live by, son."

"If that wasn't the damnest thing I've seen," Aaron said, apparently pleased with Jim's misfortune.

Grumbling, Jim paid Heyes, who hurried to say goodbye and leave to wait for Kid behind the crowds, far away from Jim.

"There you are," Kid said when he saw him. He was holding two more rolled up flap-jacks in his hands and held one out for Heyes, who shook his head. "Did you see that?"

"I did. Fastest flap-jack eater in the west."

"I wasn't even trying to win anything. Suddenly, everyone was just gone."

"Well, at least we've got enough money for a room and dinner now," Heyes smiled.

"Dinner? What happened? Did you... aw Heyes, you didn't bet on me, did you?"

"You? Never. I bet on the guy who won."

"I figured you would," Kid said and took a bite from his flap-jack.

Smiling, Heyes patted his back and turned for the hotel. "Let's go get a room."

THE END


End file.
